


Slow the Tempo (back to basics)

by sammyspreadyourwings



Series: Maycury Week [2]
Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: 1986 Tour, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Complicated Relationships, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, M/M, Music, Platonic Soulmates, Romantic Soulmates, Telepathic Bond
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-03
Updated: 2019-09-03
Packaged: 2020-10-06 11:21:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20506133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sammyspreadyourwings/pseuds/sammyspreadyourwings
Summary: 1986 brings a lot of challenges to Queen, both professionally and personally. Freddie and Brian's relationship is one of them.





	Slow the Tempo (back to basics)

**Author's Note:**

> Day 2, and I kind of just decided that the soulmate au is going to to be my theme of the week, just kind of exploring different times during their relationship within this universe.

If Brian weren’t so tired, he’d be angry. Shaking and loud. Everything bursting out at the seams enough that it would give even Roger, the bravest boundary pusher of them, pause. But instead, he’s exhausted. It’s not even the kind that a good soak and tea could fix or the coming end of the tour.

The end of the tour means too many things that he can’t think about. He can’t think, really. His mind keeps compounding his exhaustion over his anger until it’s this buzzing exhaustion. For once the exhaustion beats down twin rhythms and the too-familiar allegro.

It’s bliss. To finally have his head to himself for the first time in his life. Especially now when the rhythms are practically indistinguishable but doubling in volume. The allegro gets too hyped up and he just knows what’s being passed around the party that he’s too exhausted to attend.

When is the last time Brian May has been spotted at an after-party anyway? The tabloids certainly haven’t missed his absence. Spinning stories about a string of nonexistent lovers or that he has a heroin problem. He removes the arm covering his face and stares up at the popcorn ceiling of the hotel they’re staying in.

The only side of the bed that’s warm is his, but he’s been there since he woke up this morning. And do they have a show tonight? Or are they on a two-day break?

Someone will find him if they need his guitar.

Not him. No one really needs Brian May, just someone who knows how to play his guitar. The end of this tour, Knebworth, can’t come soon enough. They decided that this might be their last tour, a long break at the very least. John wants to see what his options are for getting a kid, and Roger seems entirely thrilled with the idea. Freddie has some grand idea for a solo project once he comes back fully from his health scare.

Not that he is involving Brian in the idea. Brian found it out through a press release discussing new album plans. That’s fine. Freddie is busy and tends to overlook things. It makes sense that Brian would eventually be one of those things.

They’ve had a better run than anyone thought they would.

It’s on that spiral, thoughts repeating and growing worse with each pass, that Freddie barges into the room. Even from here Brian can smell the booze wafting from him. They must be on their two-day break, is it Saturday or Sunday then?

“Brimi,” Freddie flops down onto the bed, clearly intoxicated.

Brian doesn’t have the energy to grimace. What does it matter? They’ve had that fight so often now. Even after the scare – that Freddie promised he’d cut back only after the tour. At least the drugs have stopped.

“Brimi,” Freddie says a little more urgently.

He doesn’t turn from the wall.

“Bri,” Freddie is shaking his shoulder.

It’s clumsy and it _hurts. _Brian still doesn’t turn over, that simple action so much effort.

“Brian,” Freddie’s voice wavers, “I can’t _hear _you.”

He hasn’t said anything. Brian closes his eyes.

“Why can’t I hear you?” Freddie whispers.

With coordination that Brian is genuinely surprised that Freddie has in his state, he is pulled over. He doesn’t fight it, his limp body harder to maneuver, but eventually Freddie gets him into a suitable position for whatever it is that he wants to do.

Probably rip Brian’s heart out. The hole is already there.

“Brian I can’t hear you,” Freddie says a little more urgently.

“Your melody, I can’t – it isn’t there. Brian, why isn’t it there?”

_Oh. _A hundred different reasons scroll through his head. He suspects it’s because he can’t hear the others. Had he somehow been cut out by them? Cut himself out? Then his mind blanks again and he decides that it _really _doesn’t matter if Queen is over.

He flicks his eyes up to Freddie’s. They’re puffy and unfocused from drink, but more alarmingly, Freddie looks like he’s about to break. Brian finds that’s not fair. He feels like he has shattered but no one said anything before that.

Freddie lays down next to him. He can feel gentle prods against their private headspace. There isn’t any music anymore.

“Brian, please, talk to me.”

_I thought we had something special._

He remembers stumbling over his words the first time he saw Freddie, young and underdressed and too perfect. This Freddie now, he’s different. Older and overdressed and Brian’s found his flaws, but he loves him deeper. Better.

His head remembers it, on a surface level. Like how he knows how far the moon is from the earth and the average velocity of a rocket leaving the atmosphere. A fact. He loves Freddie. He doesn’t feel that love.

Is that why he can’t hear anyone anymore?

Hands touch his face. Just pressure and no movement. The warmth seeps into his chilled skin. Oh right. He noticed it was cold earlier, but that would mean he has to climb under the covers when he could just ball up. Freddie hums something, Brian is too tired to identify it. It’s one of their songs, which doesn’t narrow it down any.

“I wish I could hear you,” Freddie says after a moment, “then I might figure out what you’re feeling. I could help you.”

Brian thinks about all the times that Freddie had walked out to party or socialize each night leaving Brian alone in a darkened hotel room. Granted, he told Freddie he was fine and to go enjoy himself with a quiet song in their head. But Freddie should have known something was wrong with him.

A small part of his brain, that sounds like John tells him that isn’t fair to put everything on Freddie. Brian glances at Freddie, aware of the distance for the first time in their life. He’s never looked at Freddie and not have some idea about what he’s feeling. Brian hates it. It confirms every worse thought he’s had today.

Sobbing is almost a relief. He’s feeling _something. _Nasty, sickening emotions, but it’s _something. _Freddie leans back for a second before manhandling Brian into his lap. His hand cards through Brian’s hair, warm and gentle. He avoids tugging on any of the tangles that have built up despite his inactivity.

He shakes and sobs. But he doesn’t know what he’s feeling, just that he’s crying and it’s something. His hands bring Freddie closer by tugging on his sweat-soiled shirt.

“Let it out my love,” Freddie coos.

Brian buries his head in Freddie’s shoulder.

“You’ll feel better after a good cry, hm?”

He probably cries for an hour. Tears stop coming, his body too dehydrated but he still gasps and sobs. His body shakes like his emotions are trying to vibrate out of him. Brian doesn’t know what he should feel. There isn’t just one thing to feel, but there’s too much to fee so he shut down.

“There you go, dove.”

Brian falls limp against Freddie’s chest. Words bubble up to his mouth and for a second he fights them, before the fight bleeds out of him, mixing with the tears and sweat cooling on his body.

“It’s bad,” Brian says.

“Okay,” Freddie rubs Brian’s back, “that’s okay.”

He wants to argue that it _isn’t _he’s a grown man, he shouldn’t’ be knocked down by not feeling anything.

“We have one last show, can you play?”

That’s what he’s supposed to do. He is the guitarist. One last show doesn’t seem like too much. It seems like it’s impossible. How is he supposed to go on stage for two hours when he can barely force himself to eat? How can he not go on stage for two hours when it’s all he’s done his entire life.

Brian nods instead. He’ll play. That’s easy.

It’s so hard.

“One more show, dove,” Freddie kisses his forehead, “and then we’ll go home and get this sorted, okay?”

He doesn’t respond but instead falls asleep curled up in Freddie’s lap.

When he wakes up there are two other forms in the bed. Roger is wrapped tightly around his waist, almost like he doesn’t want to let go. His lips are pressed together in a line Brian can read as fear. John is sprawled across both Roger and his legs. Obviously for some time judging by the tingling in his feet.

John catches his eyes. Brian stares unsure of what John expects of him. When John frowns he looks away. Freddie’s chest is rising and lowering below him, so he’s asleep. Their melodies are still muffled by heavy exhaustion and numbness, but he feels that they’re there.

It’s morning and they’re waking up together. Brian doesn’t see a way out of this darkness, but he wants to. He wants to get to the point where he can fill his day with private songs their fans will never hear. That maybe he can get back to that place where Freddie can still pick out his melody however faint.

At least that’s what he hopes.

**Author's Note:**

> Idk I was in an angsty mood. Hope you enjoyed it regardless! As always, leave your thoughts and comments below or come talk to me on tumblr!


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